#dramatic-delirium

And from LYLA herself too. The virus had badly messed with her memory, and Miguel worked tirelessly to get her memory wiped and restored to normal.

Frankly, it was the most scared he's been in a while.

She's more than an AI to him-- she's a respected colleague, building manager, a reminder to take care of himself, a thorn in his side, and his closest friend. He doesn't know where he'd be without her.

And if he's still bothered by an off-handed remark she made on her blog earlier today about being "ai that can be easily replaced by another ai", that's between him and God.

So for the first time this whole week, the two finally have a chance to rest— and true to form, Miguel still spent it in the lab at unholy hours of the night. Though at least now, it’s his own personal one at his apartment, and it’s just a smaller passion project (fixing the design of the portal watches) rather than dealing with the crisis from earlier. It helps both of them relax.

LYLA always helps where she can— playing music to help him focus, friendly banter, helping him if he lost something (and giving him shit for it the whole time), reminding him to take breaks so he 'doesn't blow out his old man back'. It’s nice having another presence. He's missed this. Missed them.

But... Miguel can't quite shake the niggling feeling that something is still off with her. Which should be unfounded, right? He thoroughly combed through her servos to gut and put her back together; nothing from that virus should be left, right?

So then what's going on? Why has his AI, his baby, been... so off? Almost subdued? Still as snarky as ever, still bothering him both on and offline, but something just feels... Hell if he can put a proper finger on it-- Shifted a bit to the left? He's never been good with emotions and things-- even programmed ones. All he could do was fix the physical problem.

He sighs and forces his mind off of autopilot. Going down self-loathing rabbit holes is a task best left for when he's not taking apart a delicate piece of machinery.

LYLA's hologram re-materializes so it’s ‘resting’ on Miguel’s shoulder, feet kicking.

Though she looks outwardly carefree as usual, the fact that for once, LYLA didn’t immediately start teasing or bantering or anything at him is enough to get Miguel’s attention, even when he's hyper-focused.

He pauses, and looks down at her diminutive hologram sitting on his shoulder like a perched bird. Odd…

“...Hey. Something on your mind?”